


Over

by princessbekker



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Death, Murder, Suicide, mental break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:56:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessbekker/pseuds/princessbekker
Summary: Mike finally makes it all stop.





	Over

All Mike wants to do is scream out the window on the second floor. Scream and scream, demanding passersby answer him on whether or not he’s good enough now. Man enough now. It was never enough, never ever enough, and his chest still burns thinking about it despite finally having made the voice shut up once and for all. The house is quiet now. Silent, save for Mike’s heavy breathing as he tries to figure out what to do next. He’s a cop’s son, after all. Or at least was. And he should know how to handle this without being caught except for the fact that he is the only logical suspect. He can’t think. Fuck, he can’t think, he can’t think, he can’t think.

His gun is heavy in his hand. It was loud, the gunshot, and soon police will arrive. Probably someone Mike knows, because everyone knows him, knows the Chief’s perfect son who was never enough. He needs to do something. Blood stains the floor and Mike’s clothes and the perfectly pressed button down that used to be a symbol of power and unachievable standards. He points his gun at the body and shoots it again just to watch another bloom of bright red.

When that’s done, his eyes land on the house phone and before he can think further, he’s picking it up to dial a familiar number. His fingers remember it even though his brain can’t at the moment. Three rings, the usual, before a comforting voice picks up on the other end, reciting out, “Carisi,” because it’s second nature for the detective after so many years on the job.

“Sonny?” Mike asks. His voice is smaller than he expects it to be. Fragile.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, is everything okay?”

Mike stares at his gun. At his father. “No. I- can you come to my dad’s? I really need you right now. Please.”

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Hurry.”

Through the crack in the curtains, Mike can see the beginnings of flashing red and blue lights. He’s running out of time. Everything feels like it’s happening too slowly. Wading through syrup to try and figure out what to do until Sonny gets here. It’s selfish, but he needs to see those beautiful blue eyes at least one more time because he’s already decided he won’t be walking out of this house. He thought he would die here so many times, and now, it will be his last sight burned into his eyelids like a photograph he can never escape.

A harsh knock on the heavy front door startles him enough to make his finger twitch on the trigger. “NYPD, open up.”

“I- I have a gun,” Mike calls through the door. “Go away!”

“We can’t do that, sir. Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

He looks down at his father. “Yes. Now leave me alone, or- or I’ll shoot.”

“We don’t have to do that, sir. We can talk this out. What’s your name?”

Of course Mike knows it’s a tactic. They’re trying to talk him down, likely calling for backup. Make the perp feel comfortable so he starts letting down his guard. But he doesn’t want that at all. He just wants Sonny.

“I want Sonny. Please.”

“Who’s Sonny?”

Mike doesn’t answer. Sonny said he was on his way. How far is he? How long before he shows up and realizes what his boyfriend has done? He can taste his heartbeat in the back of his throat in bitter company to the vomit he didn’t bother to wash down the sink because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. He can’t do anything but wait for Sonny.

In a couple minutes, he hears another knock at the door. Before he can tell them again to leave him alone, he hears the one thing he needs more than anything in the world right now. An angel’s chorus cutting through all the noise, all the chaos, all the turmoil, and throwing him a life jacket.

“Mikey? It’s me, it’s Sonny. Can you let me in?”

Slowly, Mike approaches the door and looks through the peephole to make sure it’s just Sonny and not a trap. He undoes the latch with all the care of a surgeon standing over an open chest cavity, staring down at a beating heart. The knob turns with the same creak it always has, and Mike uses the door as a shield from whoever else might be outside as he opens it a crack to let Sonny in. His gun feels heavier, aimed squarely between Sonny’s eyes. Those eyes that are usually so full of love, but this time have gone calculating and stiff the way they do in situations like these. Hostage situations. Fuck, Mike almost wants to laugh. There aren’t any hostages, because his father is finally gone.

“What happened here, doll?”

He swallows hard and turns his eyes back to his father’s body for a split second. Long enough to nearly shoot it again, before realizing that it’ll just send the people outside racing in to kill him. Mike doesn’t plan on surviving, but he’d rather go out on his own terms. His last sight Sonny, his own hands pulling the trigger of the police issue pistol. The NYPD brought him into this world. It does not get to take him out of it too.

“I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Sonny’s face softens, but once again, it’s not the look he gives Mike when they’re alone together. It’s his victim look. For when he needs to coax a fragile child or a traumatized woman into telling him what was done to them. “Did he hurt you again? Because if he did, I can help you. If you shot him in self-defense-”

“I didn’t.”

“Mike-”

“No. No, I shot him because I wanted him dead. He deserved it. This is a confession, in my right mind. Record it if you want. I came here, waited for him to come home, and then I shot him in cold blood. It’s that simple.”

Part of Mike urges him to shoot Sonny before he turns the gun on himself- spare him the pain of going through the funeral, of realizing what a fuck up he fell in love with, of scrubbing Mike’s blood from his face until the skin is raw. He doesn’t deserve that. But Mike also knows that there are so many things for him to live for, and that it isn’t right to take that away from him as a matter of his own selfishness. 

So he just turns the gun back to himself, and before Sonny can do anything about it, pulls the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is conveniently also @lesbiancarisi


End file.
